


Courtship

by endlesshorizons



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, could be Hannigram if you want, though I thought of it as metaphor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesshorizons/pseuds/endlesshorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Maybe Freddie's killer didn't do this. Maybe his benefactor did."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"It's a courtship."</p><p>Written post-S2E11</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courtship

Da dum dum. Da dum dum.

One step forward. One step back. A waltz not of notes and steps, but of personalities, leaning in and backing away.

The introduction, a statue carved with fear and hatred but polished with tenderness and devotion – the process of any great artist – and now mounted as a gift, just for him.

The expression of intent, a grand gesture, unmistakable in the blazing of its flames, drawing attention away from all other contenders.

Hannibal used to think he had seen them all, the grandiose and arrogant peacocks flashing their tails and the mousy imposters trying to catch his attention, but none of them were like this. None had such quiet confidence, that simple ability to see into his mind and know his thoughts, to pluck them from his brain and make them into the masterpieces standing in front of him, more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

For months, Hannibal has thrown rocks at windows and left chocolates on doorsteps, waiting in vain for a reply. Now, finally, the rose has been retrieved and a bouquet offered back. It’s his turn now.

Under the silvery moonlight, he steps out with his instruments in hand and an indescribable euphoria bubbling inside of him. Time for a serenade.

 

\--

 

The slap of handcuffs sends a shiver much colder than the chill of metal, the sharp, icy blade of betrayal tracing down his spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. The interrogation room reeks of treachery on this side of the glass.

The worse part, however, is the veil between them. Cowardice, or did he think him unworthy? Hannibal ignores Jack Crawford sitting opposite him and instead stares at where another pair of eyes must be watching, invisible. Why does he have to hide? It is common etiquette to have important conversations face to face.

“He says he’s sorry,” says the man in front of him.

Lies, Hannibal thinks. All of it, lies.


End file.
